When the Words Don't Line Up - by Tandy Balson

Most of the writing I do is short meditations/devotions or creative nonfiction.  Everyday life gives me inspiration for my topics.  Even so, the words are not always there when I want them.  Sometimes the seed of an idea needs time to mature and blossom into something I can write about.  There doesn’t seem to be an effective way to rush this process.

I’ve only been writing seriously for a little over three years.  When I started, my husband encouraged me to take pictures of anything that interested me.  He said that I may not know what to do with them right away but they may be useful prompts down the road.  How right he was!

More than once I have scrolled through the file of pictures on my computer and gained inspiration for one of my stories.  I like to add a picture to my blog posts and find my cache of pictures often fills this need as well.

That being said, things don’t always line up the way I’d like.  An initial idea may be there along with a few good thoughts to go with it.  The challenge is often the ability to word things in a way that points the reader to a closer relationship with the Lord of the universe.

At times like this, I’ve learned to save my work as a draft and put it aside.  When the timing is right, the Lord will give me the words he wants me to use.  I must always remember that it is not my words I want to share, but his.  They should be as a prayer that glorifies him.

Recently I discovered a prayer written early in the last century that sums up my feelings.   Unfortunately the author is unknown.

“Lord of the universe, how I wish I had the words to fashion beautiful prayers to praise Thee!  But alas, I cannot find these words.  So listen to me O God, as I recite the letters of the alphabet.  You know what I think and how I feel.  Take these letters of the alphabet and YOU form the words that express the yearning, the love for Thee in my heart!”

www.timewithtandy.com  

Time to refresh by Lynn J Simpson

"I look out the window
The birds are composing
Not a note is out of tune
Or out of place"
Jon Foreman, Your Love is Strong

I watch her fly, her wings that flutter, her belly that drops toward the water, and clawed feet that land and grip to the twig anchored to a birch tree that roots in wild grasses of the river's bank.

Effortless, easy; flawless and free, her beak pointing up toward an abundant sky,  I wait and watch to see what her next move will be. Does she think before she moves, or waits until a wisp of wind is felt under her wing, or a sound that startles her sensitive ears?

What will make her move? But then I ponder. Does it matter what makes her fly again, as all is in perfect harmony, in His perfect plan? Is what matters is that she waits, on that branch that seems like it has been set in that place just for her, in this moment, to be in an alertness of rest? An alertness of rest that senses in spirit, in seeing, in smell, taste and hearing, when to move again?

I shift on the rock where I sit, the river flowing inches in front of me. I lean forward, slip a cool hand into shallow waters slipping over rocks. Effortless, easy; flawless and free the river water flows over my still hand braced on pebble laced sand. My hand soothed and refreshed in waters that flow and journey.

A vision enters my mind, but does not disturb. A woman at a well. And He speaks.

 Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, 14 but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”
John 4:13

My hand moves in the river water. It cups and fills and raises inches above the river, and lets water flow out between opening fingers. It dips into waters again, fills, and raises, and lets waters flow out, only to be filled again with a movement back into waters that endlessly flows over still rocks.

Effortless, easy; flawless and free the river flows. And waters flow through a refreshed hand, through fingers moved, opened in receiving and retrieving.

A gentle wind grazes my neck, brushes away a wisp of hair that journeyed over an eye. I look up, across the river. The twig has emptied of her.

She has moved on.

I stand, turn to the path that leads my next moment, my next thought, my next journey and words. River waters grace my ears. A cool but water refreshed hand tucks loose hair behind my ear.  And I take a step.

A Poignant Summer Memorial by Alan Anderson

Do not cast me away when I am old; do not forsake me when my strength is gone. (Psalm 71:9 NIV)

Last month I wrote what I hope was a rather humorous post about my battle with summer heat. That battle continues by the way! This month I turn a corner and go from humour to a poignant account of people I have come alongside through the calling God has given me.

This blog post is partially composed of a snippet of a writing project I am working on. I present it here as a memorial and tribute to those I have the privilege of learning from in the end of life context I work in. I find real joy in my profession as a spiritual care practitioner in a healthcare setting.

For the most part the people I come alongside are frail elderly people and in need of constant care of one kind or another. They experience situations of physical, mental, emotional and spiritual vulnerability on a daily basis. Staff and those of us in leadership positions love them. We grieve for them and miss them when they pass away.

Here is my memorial and tribute to the people I have the privilege of gleaning lessons from and are never far from my writing. In this account taken from a real life situation I am trying to capture the essence of the nature of my calling. They may be frail elderly people and they are also my teachers! They inspire me as a writer I seek to honour them in keeping with God’s Word.

I entered the room minutes after the old gentleman breathed his last. The room felt so still. His wife stood by his bed and simply stated, "he died just a few minutes ago". She then said in a quiet voice, "He's at peace now!"

It was such a tender and sacred moment. She held something tightly in her hands and I saw it was his Bible. She said that his Bible was to go in his coffin with him along with his favorite stuffed animal, a teddy bear. She said he would like that!

This lady now a new widow seemed almost emotionless as she left the room. She looked so fragile as if at any second she would break. I helped her carry some of his belongings and personal effects down the hallway. A taxi was waiting outside. The driver greeted her with a smile and "how are you today?" She got into the cab without saying a word and waved to me as the taxi took her away.

She was going home to make necessary arrangements. Family had to be called. Meetings with the funeral director would be in her very near future. I remember what was so important to her as she readied to say goodbye to her husband. She wanted to make sure that when he was placed in his casket he wouldn't be alone. His Bible and his teddy bear would be with him!

Busy as a Beaver .... by Jocelyn Faire

In this world you will have troubles ...

Almost every negative has a positive side. Can this be true of writer's block?

Biking along the Legacy Trail, a pathway that follows the Trans-Canada highway from Canmore to Banff, my high achieving sister leads the way. She is always busy, always productive. Busy as a beaver, with enough letters behind her name to spare a few for me. Many times I feel un-productive beside her.

I'd been mulling over the writer's block issue knowing I needed to pre-post before the two of us join a trip to the Yukon. I called out to say, “I have to stop.” To our right a well built beaver dam approximately ten feet high, had effectively stopped the creek, vibrant green grass lay below and the still pond above reflected the surrounding trees. “That is a picture of writer's block” I said, hoping to catch it with my camera. Cyclists stopped to see what we were snapping, hoping for wild-life? “It's a beaver's dam.” I said.

“Oh, just a dam?” I noticed a man on foot, with a telephoto lens attached to his camera. Turns out he has been watching and photographing this dam for years, in summer he comes daily to view the progress. He pointed out the recent construction to us, as well as the beaver's hidden lodge. “A beaver family lives in this pond. Just below that new white log is their entrance.” He points, “If you watch closely, you can see the ripples of their movement. There, there goes one now.” I wanted to see it, but all I saw were the water wrinkles. The culprits are invisible, but the evidence is damming.(couldn't resist the pun!)

So what does the Dam of a Beaver have to do with a writer's block?

Writer's Block—what is it?

A usually temporary psychological inability to begin or continue work on a piece of writing www.urbandictionary.com

Temporary or not, the words like water, are not flowing.

When I got home, still reflecting on the powerful damage of the little rodent, I was compelled to look a little further. Google to the rescue.

The beaver's teeth never stop growing. Their dental care plan is simple—keep gnawing at trees; perhaps the writer's take is to keep on writing.

The more exciting find resulted from a three year research project examining ecosystems in the Colorado River: a busy beaver's dam work is felt downstream in a major way.

According to the study:

Beavers are well known for creating large pond-like areas upstream from their dams, but scientists have found that the construction projects also spread water downstream with the efficiency of a massive once-every-200-years flood ... beaver dams force water out of the natural stream channel and spread it across and down the valley for hundreds of yards.

"We found that upstream ponds were not the main hydrologic effect of the [beaver] dams in the Colorado River valley," said study co-author Cherie Westbrook. "Instead, the beaver dams greatly enhance hydrologic processes during the peak-flow and low-flow periods, suggesting that beavers can create and maintain environments suitable for the formation and persistence of wetlands."
(Beaver Dams: http://www.livescience.com/10512-impact-beaver-dams-wider-thought.html)

I re-read the report. When God does something in nature there is always more to it, than meets the ordinary eye, usually my eye. My initial response is not always the correct assumption, I need to go deeper. The power of the beaver dam is to block off the water, but this report suggests that there can be a positive impact on the environment beyond the blockage in the way that the water seeps through to nurture roots. Perhaps the season of writer's block can be used to water the soul in different ways. The slow seepage of water does more for the roots than a quickly passing stream. God wants to nurture my roots in a dry spell.

"In this world you will have troubles, but take heart I have overcome the world.” (Jesus) John 16:33

 

www.schmutzie.com

Jocelyn writes (briefly in summer) at her blog: http://whoistalking.wordpress.com 

She is the author of a grief book, Who is Talking out Of My Head/Grief as an Out of Body Experience